The Art of PastTense
by greysnyper
Summary: Richard and Jason have always shared games. And now they're forced to share a little more...Inspired by Henry Fielding's Tom Jones.


It happened a few months after Clark "Kent" started living quietly on the property

It happened a few months after Clark "Kent" started living quietly on the property. A man arrived by carriage and had a private visitation with the Master.

This didn't pass as extraordinary for young Richard or Jason, for Wayne entertained many visitors randomly due to his status in the legal realm. Most of the company appeared, by all accounts, disinteresting and neither ward complained when they were not invited to sit in on meals and political talk.

Mostly, they stayed out of the way.

After the unremarkable guest left, his appearance brief enough to last only as long as tea—which _did_ seem odd, since few would pass up on the hospitality Wayne provided in Bruce—Wayne's manservant called the boys in from the garden.

More specifically, the retired knight called on Richard to meet with the Master in the office. But where Richard goes, Jason inevitably follows.

The younger boy, aged ten to Richard's fifteen, waits in the entranceway for Sir Alfred to leave. The man gives Jason an unimpressed examination, noting that it would be prudent for the child to at least change his clothing and wash his hands and his face before touching anything.

There is some mirth in the servant's eyes when Jason nods and makes his promise. It's clear that neither believes in the words.

With the coast clear, Jason creeps across the polished floors and wide spaces to where Master Wayne's office is kept. Jason has lived here for several years, now. The luxurious architecture of the Manor with all of its artifacts has never truly been Jason's home. The boy prefers the treeline and the endless field beyond his window. With Richard, it almost certainly is the same.

At some point, Wayne had ordered a new hall be built, connecting the boys' rooms with its own private exit. Some nights, Jason follows his brother out to look at the stars, with no fear of disturbing the rest of the house.

Now, Jason stands behind a tall, solid oak door. As he glances back to assure that he's still in an empty space, he's free to listen in as best as he's able through the keyhole. It's not common for Wayne to want to speak to either of the boys.

Not privately, at least.

There is discussion, muffled at first. Then some words are picked free. Something about the visitor, though Jason has no idea why that would concern Richard. And then Jason catches his name.

He stalls.

Once more it's spoken. "I know you're listening, Jason."

The boy flinches, not sure if he should run away to deny the claim. An instant later, the door is swung open a crack and Richard is looking down at him, slightly annoyed and perhaps even a little amused.

"Bring him in," Wayne says from across the room, sounding…unimpressed? Or perhaps Jason is imagining it.

Richard's hand envelopes Jason's collar and the younger boy is unceremoniously lead into the office, though with only mock roughness. Richard's like that, sometimes. He makes a game of seriousness.

Already, Jason feels out of place. He's covered in dried mud and wishing he may have heeded Alfred's advice. In this room especially, and standing next to Richard before the Master, Jason's self-conscious. For all his adventures today with Richard, the older boy is not nearly as stained as he is. It had _always_ been like that, somehow.

The room is large, with the desk forming the focus of the place. Behind Wayne is a wide window looking out at the court which leads to the road. The light from the growing afternoon fills the spaces and accents the rich colours of royal red and burnt oak that themes the office. The light also makes Wayne hard to see, a contrasting shadow all but offered. Jason doesn't stare for long at the man, anyhow…

Tomes of bookcases, an oversized and curious globe, glass cases full of strange treasures. These all live here, and Jason's never been present in the room long enough to look more closely. He'd probably never dare to touch, aware that if he asks for permission it would never be granted. The Master spends a lot of time here.

Jason's place is outside.

He feels this doubly now, and ducks his head. "Sorry," he mumbles.

"No," Wayne answers, not strict. "I apologize for not including you in this conference. This relates to you as much as it does to Richard."

Jason nods, not pretending to understand. His curiosity is overpowering his shame.

"You were saying this had to do with your visitor?" Richard asks, speaking as if formality is a language he is suddenly fluent in. It's something Jason hadn't expected.

"Yes," says the Master. "I don't suppose you'd remember Mr. Drake, Richard. You were very young when he last attended to business here."

Richard shakes his head, and Jason gives up on trying to recognize the name.

"He is undertaking a…perilous journey to the New World. He doesn't expect his fortunes to be…favourable," Wayne continues.

Jason notes something in how the Master chooses to word it. The New World is something that Jason comprehends. He and Richard often play games and have adventures where they visit the strange continent. They've fought and won wars on the foreign soil, defeating savages and winning valuable territory.

Jason can't imagine why Wayne would be unimpressed with such an undertaking.

The Master frowns; a difficult transition in the shadows that make up his expression from where he sits, and seen where the boys stand. "He's asked that I take in his son and I have agreed."

Richard straightens almost immediately. Jason wonders how he himself should react.

"I see."

Wayne rubs at his chin and nods. "Where Mr. Drake is going with his wife, it's not a suitable place for a child. The boy's name is Timothy and he's six. Richard, you will be responsible for his well-being. Jason…"

There's a slight pause.

"I expect the same from you. Don't exclude the boy. I'm told he's quite sharp and self-managing, but while he is residing here he should feel welcome."

Richard nods, curtly. "Yes, sir."

Jason starts to suspect that the same orders were given years ago, before he himself first arrived. This thought bothers him more than he expects.

A new child present, that Richard is expected to take care of…and one so _young_…

Jason senses the injustice of this, and his own misfortune. But these, he keeps to himself in the presence of the Master.

"He'll arrive on the Sabbath," Wayne responds, reaching for a book that he must have been perusing before Richard's arrival. "You both are dismissed."

Out in the hall, Jason slumps his shoulders and follows Richard back to the yard. They're not far when Richard stops, looking at the boy.

"You look displeased," comments the young man.

"No," Jason lies. Then he shakes his head, since this is Richard. "Yes."

Looking up, Jason sees a soft stare boring down on him. "You don't like the news?"

"It's going to ruin everything," Jason states, his voice loud off of the walls and the floor. He's glad they're out of Wayne's hearing. It's a chance to be honest. "Dragging a child around is _not_ going to be fun."

Richard's smile is small, and he drops a hand into Jason's thick hair. "We can't change anything, and you never know. This _could_ be fun."

"I don't see how," the boy mutters, falling into step again next to Richard. "He's not going to be like us. He's got legitimate parents. He shouldn't be here. I bet he'll be vain."

"There's probably more that we don't know," murmurs Richard, though he fails to elaborate further. Jason doesn't want to hear excuses or defences for the child, either. "But Master Wayne's not going to treat us any differently."

Jason sighs a sound, feeling unmistakably miserable. Things _will_ change, and he doesn't want them to.

Richard's hands don't leave Jason's sides. "It'll be like when Mr. Clark first arrived. Things will feel strange until we know how to act around one another. And then, it will be fine."

"You're not allowed to act differently," Jason tries, peeking up.

When he sees Richard's subsequent expression, Jason thinks he can forgive the intruder just a little bit.

Alfred may not be so forgiving by the end of the day when he finds out the unfortunate fate of the roses by the garden-fence…

They've come here enough times that there's a man-made path meandering in a random course to the pond. The sound of six feet thrashing through the growth disturbs the stillness.

Then Jason disturbs it a little more. "I say we climb trees today."

Richard, forming the lead shakes his head. "Tim's too small to be climbing."

"I'm not," Timothy protests with calm words. He hardly sounds insulted.

Jason scowls, grabbing a thin birch tree and letting it support his weight. "You are _too_ too small, but that doesn't mean it should wreck our day."

Richard tosses back a black look at the boy, but Tim's still not bothered. "Then you guys climb and I'll watch."

"If we climb trees, we'll do it together. But I'd rather try that at the front of the house and that's out of the way," the oldest boy delegates. "I'm sure you're good at climbing, Tim. Just not with these trees."

"_We're_ really good at climbing," Jason states, matter-of-factly. It's a little redundant, since Tim has seen them climb.

Trees are something that Richard and Jason still exclusively manage. Summer is ending and Timothy's attempts to join in the sport may have to wait until the following year. The thought entertains Jason.

It doesn't seem to disturb Timothy, though. The child shrugs, as detached as he had been on the day they all had met.

It's been almost two months…

"You're like a spider-monkey," Timothy states, keeping close at Richard's heels. Jason doesn't know if the reference is for Richard alone, or if he's included.

He snorts. "You can't combine animals like that."

"They're real," Timothy turns, looking slightly perturbed.

Richard snickers, stopping as well to rub at Timothy's dark hair. It always annoys Jason when Richard does that. "If I'm a spider-monkey, what's Jason?"

Jason stops lazily swinging around his branch and gives the small boy a challenging look. He'll probably end up labelled as something stupid.

Tim almost squints at Jason, and then shrugs. "A fox."

Richard laughs, nodding appraisingly. "He causes enough trouble, but Jay's also quick."

The suggestion isn't so lame after all. Jason shrugs, trying not to care. Already, though, his mind is pursuing the allusion. Some of the lords in the next-property over had a fox hunt once, and Richard and Jason had sat on their side of the land to watch.

Richard had explained the sport, and somehow could pick apart the details of the event faster than Jason could. The younger boy had willingly surrendered to listening to Richard's account of the horses and animals chasing after the beast. The fox had escaped, that day. Richard had been deeply amused.

Timothy hadn't been there, Jason notes.

"And what would you be?" Richard asks, looking down at the boy with his hands on his hips—sleeves rolled up in preparation for whatever adventure they found today.

Jason thinks they're playing the game with the frogs, on Tim's suggestion. The child really liked that game.

Timothy scrunches up his face and then eventually shrugs, saying nothing.

Jason could offer suggestions, but somehow feels bad since Timothy hadn't given him a reason to be insulting.

"What about Master Wayne?" Jason asks instead. The Master had invited Timothy into his study a few times shortly after the boy's arrival. That had ceased about a month ago, though the child had access to some of the Master's books.

Jason suspects that the boy could also understand them, which is extraordinarily weird. Half the text had been in Latin and even Richard struggled with Latin.

Timothy looks almost reluctant to answer, even outside and far from Wayne's listening. Finally, the boy ventures a guess. "Maybe a bat?"

"Why a bat?" Jason can't help asking, finding such a small animal unsuitable. Jason's fox is bigger than the bat. If spider-monkeys were real and not the size of bugs…it's not right that the Master's animal be so pathetic in size. Maybe a lion or…

"They come out at night," Tim shrugs. "They're hard to find. They're different, I guess."

"We found a bat once," argues Jason. "They're not hard to find."

"It got stepped on," Tim's voice is small.

"Someone clumsy stepped on it," Richard nods, giving Jason a raised brow.

"I _said_ I was sorry," Jason grounds. "It was okay in the end."

That particular adventure had been one of their first with Tim. Richard had been leading the way toward the small house where Mr. Clark resided. Timothy had shown some interest at the mention of the writer. The big, quiet man had—with good humour—agreed to help the boys look after the rodent.

In the end, the creature had leapt from the author's hands almost instantly, gliding into a flight and settling safely in the branches above unharmed.

"So what would Mr. Clark be?" questions Richard, starting once more on their makeshift path.

Jason's listening, too. This would require something quiet, and strong.

"A griffin?"

Richard laughs. "Something fictional."

Jason starts speaking before he knows to stop. "You mean they're not re—"

His words die out and his face flushes. He can feel Timothy inspecting him curiously.

Richard smiles reassuringly. "Hey, I'd like for them to be real too," he says, trying to alleviate any embarrassment. "A creature that guards secrets…"

"That'd be the Sphinx," Tim corrects.

Jason's focused on Richard's response, wanting the oldest of them to frown or scold or be bothered at how this child is correcting even him.

Richard only shakes his head. "Yes, you're absolutely right."

"Not bad," Jason mutters, kicking at a twig. "Not bad for a person who doesn't have an animal."

Timothy frowns, crossing his arms stubbornly without raising more in protest.

Richard rolls his eyes, probably tired with keeping the peace constantly threatened by only one side. "Fine, I've been thinking on this. Timothy, you can be a bird."

"Why a bird?" Jason asks, trying to give a _little_ effort into sounding less confrontational.

"Because Tim's been places," Richard states, eluding to the few mentions that Tim had made regarding his travels. The Drakes had seen much of the world. "I've also suspected that birds know more than they let on about, and you're pretty clever Tim."

The smallest of the three drops his head, shrugging humbly.

"Then you'd have to be a robin," Jason adds, naming the first small bird he can think of. "They seem to think pretty highly of themselves."

"They have a right to," Richard responds, giving Jason another disapproving look. "They've got practical, yet vivid colours. I think they're handsome birds."

Timothy shifts, quietly saying, "only the males look vivid."

Jason sighs, feeling tired with this game. Richard isn't impressed with him and he's still feeling confrontational. "Can we _please_ move on, now?"

Richard's chance to reply or agree is interrupted when Timothy immediately perks up and then throws himself into the small plants and bushes.

"Here," he chirps triumphantly, holding out a creature that looks too stunned to react properly. "I caught the first one!"

"Doesn't count until we get to the pond," Jason says, as he glances about for any sign of other frogs.

"That's never been a rule," Richard warns, stepping into the wild growth to help the small boy up. "We just have to try harder to win."

Jason already knows this, and is taking the lead on the path so that he can have a head-start.

If he catches more of the slimy creatures, it won't impress Tim. But Jason's going for the praise of Richard, which had always been a goal. He's still getting used to the idea of actually working for it.

He's a fox, and a fox is always better than a stupid bird.


End file.
